


Teenaged Wasteland

by wierdrocks



Series: Young and Hopelss [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Runaways (Comics)
Genre: Not Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Season 2 Compliant, References to Child Abuse, References to physical abuse, Sign Language, references to psychological abuse, references to sexual abuse, selective mute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-27 20:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1722248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wierdrocks/pseuds/wierdrocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The transport assigned to carry Ward to his tiny, dark cell exploded.” Skye spoke slowly. “Three out of the four military escorts survived, one has major burns.” She gestured to her right arm almost subconsciously. “As far as we can tell, it was some kind of freak accident.” She shrugged. “No one else survived.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Racebent, non-time displaced Klara. Racebent Molly.

“The transport assigned to carry Ward to his tiny, dark cell exploded.” Skye spoke slowly. “Three out of the four military escorts survived, one has major burns.” She gestured to her right arm almost subconsciously. “As far as we can tell, it was some kind of freak accident.” She shrugged. “No one else survived.”  
“I’ll write a letter to the deceased escort’s family.” Coulson said matter-of-factly, taking the file from Skye.  
“So that’s it then?” Simmons asked. She had rarely spoken since they’d arrived at their new headquarters, spending most of her time tending to a comatose Fitz. “Ward’s dead.”  
“Yep.” Skye nodded. She heaved a sigh. “You know, I thought I’d feel better.”  
“That’s not how it works.” May said from the other side of the table they’d been using in place of the high-tech one on the Bus. “He went quickly, and that’s not what he deserved.” 

It was raining. He’d been walking for too long. He knew he could keep going. He’d walked farther for longer. The smoke in his lungs was making it harder and harder to keep going, but it didn’t matter. If he didn’t keep walking, he could be spotted. They could catch up to him. Maybe that would be better. Maybe he should let himself be found, caught, put on another transport. Hopefully that one wouldn’t blow up. Maybe he should turn around and flag down the emergency crew, tell them why he was there, why he needs to be taken in, locked in a tiny room. His feet haven’t stopped moving. He hasn’t turned around.  
He’d like to think it’s because he’s too tired or because of his survival instincts or because the crews may have moved on by now but he knows it’s because he’s a coward. He’s scared of the tiny room and the silence it will bring and the looks on his family’s faces. He should stop thinking of them that way. Why hasn’t he stopped thinking of them that way? His family. The people he betrayed. The people he hurt. They aren’t his family. Or at least, he isn’t their brother any more.

It was still raining, or maybe it had stopped and then started again, or maybe he’d been moving with the clouds. Maybe they were following him. These are the kind of irrational thoughts one has when one is shivering in a dark alley in the middle of nowhere. Along with calling good, decent, kind people that will never want to touch you again unless it’s to strike you family. But that’s what family does. That’s what family has always done.  
He looks up when he hears the noise, body tensing, something in the back of his mind grateful that they’ve come to take him away again, or to just get it over with and shoot him. He doesn’t think when he sees how the shadows are moving in the darkness. He recognizes the movements and he knows which to strike and and where and how.  
The assailant falls with a muffled “oof”. Ward turns to the smaller figure, and the dim street light reveals a boy, maybe sixteen, brandishing a knife in one hand and carrying a grocery tote in the other. His stance relaxes when he sees Ward and for a moment the man thinks it incredibly odd that he closed his knife. Didn’t he know how dangerous he was?  
“Thanks.” The boy chuckled. “I owe you one.” Ward didn’t say anything, just moved to sit back down against the brick where he’d been before. “Hey.” The boy said, stepping back into his line of sight. “D’you have a place to stay tonight?” Ward shook his head. “Okay, well, then I know how to repay you.” The boy smiled. Ward shook his head. “Hey, come on, it’s nothing. We have an extra bedroom. You can shower. We’re makin’ meat loaf.” He extended a hand. “I’m Chase.” Ward took a step back, ringing his hands. He didn’t shake his head again though. Meat loaf sounded so nice… But he couldn’t go with this boy. He couldn’t put him in danger. Anyone around him was in danger.  
The boy moved down the alley, stopping every few steps to gesture and encourage the man to come with him. This made no sense. Grant Ward was dangerous and no one should want to be around him. All he did was beak things and hurt people. Why was this boy being so nice? Why was he letting him?  
Chase led him to a jeep. It was dry inside and warm once he cranked the heat up.  
“So you don’t talk?” Chase asked, making sure to face him. He shook his head. His larynx was still fractured, and probably wouldn’t heal properly, and now he’d breathed in smoke from the explosion. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to speak anyway. What would he say? He’d probably tell this boy that he should be afraid. “Deaf?” He asked, dragging his index finger from his mouth to his ear and raising his eyebrows. Ward shook his head again. “Okay.” The boy dug his phone out of his pocket, swiped at it a couple of times and handed it to Ward. It was open to the notepad.  
“I need something to call you.” He smiled. Ward looked down at the phone. Now he could warn him, tell him that he shouldn’t pick up strangers, that he’d invited a murderer into his jeep. Instead, he typed slowly:  
“My name is Leo.” It’s disrespectful, really. No matter how much he tried to convince himself that Fitz and Simmons were safer in that box than on the plane, how many times he told himself that he wasn’t just being cowardly by not killing them directly, he had still hurt his friends. Maybe even irrevocably. Everything he had done was irrevocable. Everything he had done was unforgivable.  
“Hi, Leo,” Chase smiled and turned the radio on.


	2. Chapter 2

Chase did not drive them to a house. He pulled up to a bar far removed from the rest of town. Ward couldn’t make out the sign in the rain.  
“Welcome to the Hostile.” Chase said, pushing the door open with his shoulder. “Hey guys!” He greeted a small group of teenagers who were all standing around, leaning toward the small TV behind the bar. Ward stayed near the door as Chase shook off his own rain coat. “This is Leo. I owe him dinner.” Ward almost didn’t notice that he was tugging at his coat, the one he’d stolen from one of his fellow HYDRA prisoners. He let Chase slide it off his shoulders and shake it out the same way, but stayed planted near the door.  
“Welcome.” A girl waved. She was sitting on stop of the bar, long legs swinging beneath her. She had bright blue eyes and long, flowing blonde hair. Her smile was warm and inviting.  
“Come on.” Chase waved him toward the bar. Now that they were inside, Ward could see that Chase had blond hair and blue eyes too, and he wondered idly if he and the girl were related.  
“I’m Karolina.” The girl said. “This is Molly,” She gestured to a younger girl who was sitting on a barstool. She had tanned skin and long, wavey brown hair that almost looked like it was escaping from underneath her pink beanie.  
“You want a change of clothes?” Molly asked friendlily. He hadn’t realized until then that he was shivering. He nodded. He wouldn’t be any good to these people sick. Wait. Any good? No. He wasn’t sticking around long enough to repay their kindnesses. He was sure they were too smart to allow that.  
“K. I’ll see what we have.” She said, then hoped off her stool.  
“That’s Gert and Kenny.” Karolina pointed to the other two teens. Gert was a squat, plump girl with lilac hair. She nodded curtly at Ward and he felt like she was sizing him up. Kenny was a tall, muscular African American boy with his hair in dreadlocks. He extended a hand, face split in a wide smile.  
“So what kind of trouble you get Chase’s hopeless ass out of?” Ward didn’t shake his hand, and he only shrugged at the question.  
“Some dill weed tried to take the salad.” Chase said as he moved toward a door near the end of the bar, Ward assumed it lead to some kind of kitchen. “I had him on the ropes.” He tipped his chin up proudly. Gert scoffed, rolling her eyes. “What?! I did!” He puffed out his chest. Karolina giggling. Chase groaned and pushed through the door, throwing, “You guys know I’m preparing your food right?” over his shoulder.  
“That’s not our fault.” Gert shrugged. Kenny leaned toward Ward.  
“He’s in charge of the salad because he’d burn ice if we let him do anything else.” Ward managed a small smile. “Don’t talk, huh?” He shook his head. “Sign?” He circled his index fingers around each other. Ward shook his head. “You wanna learn? We all know ASL pretty well.”  
“We’ve gotten some deaf kids through.” Karolina explained. No, no, they can’t teach him anything. He has to be gone by the morning. He couldn’t convey this in any way because Molly returned then with a pile of clothes half her size, a plastic bag hanging off her arm.  
“Here.” She said. “These are the biggest clothes we have. Take ‘em into the bathroom and find something that fits." She handed him the clothes and for a second he thinks they were a little too heavy for someone her size to carry. He nodded a thank you to her and she handed him the plastic bag. “Put your wet stuff in there, we’ll run it through the wash.” She waved him toward the bathrooms. She really shouldn’t be being so nice to him… but it was nice.

He peeled his wet tee shirt and went to put it on the bag, only to find that it contained an unopened pack of boxer briefs and a fresh pair of socks. What Karolina had said, “We’ve gotten some deaf kids through.” Did they do this a lot? Did these kids just pick up every stray they met? Give them food and a change of clothes?  
He dug a worn button-up, old jeans that fit him a little more loose than he was used to, and an old tee shirt out of the clothes. He jumped when someone knocked gently on the door. Chase’s voice:  
“Hey, Leo, don’t put your boots back on, man, you’ll get a rash.” Ward knocked on the door to tell him that he’d heard him, and then gathered up the remaining clothes to take back into the barroom. Chase took them, his boots, and the bag from him and disappeared through a door at the back of the room. The others had moved a table closer to the bar and set out dinner on the bar itself. It all looked so good, even if he could tell it was all microwave food: meat loaf, mashed potatoes, green beans, Chase’s salad, a pitcher of ice-cold lemonade. Karolina made him a plate, dividing off huge portions of everything.  
“And there’s pie in fridge for desert.” She said, setting his plate down.  
“Yes.” Molly cheered.  
“You want it now, Bruiser?” Gert asked, shoving a glass of lemonade at the younger girl.  
“I’m supposed to eat my vegetables first.” Molly said flippantly, piling all of her food on top of one another. Chase appeared at her back and squeezed her shoulders.  
“Nonsense.” He said.  
“Yeah, life’s short.” Gert said almost like she had personal experience with how true that statement was. “Eat dessert first.”  
“There is a responsible adult at the table, Gertrude.” Chase said as he settled down next to Ward. Ward shook his head and shrugged. No, Molly could eat whatever she liked, as long as she ate. He was not in charge of anyone.  
“Leo disagrees.” Karolina laughed, loading her plate with everything but the meat loaf. Kenny didn’t bother with the meat either.  
“Eat.” Chase shoved Ward’s plate closer to him. He hadn’t realized he’d been neglecting his own food in favor of making sure everyone else was getting what they needed. He picked up his fork in an instant. He obeyed.  
“I’ll drag the cot out after dinner.” Kenny put his hand in front of his mouth as he spoke so his tablemates wouldn’t see him chew.  
“He said to get out of dish duty.” Karolina teased.  
“Hell yeah.” Kenny nodded. The table laughed. Ward managed a small smile.  
“I’m on dishes tonight I think.” Karolina said. “I’ll check the chore wheel, are you going to do that all evening? We’re eating.” Ward looked up, confused. Everyone seemed to be focusing on Gert. She was staring at Ward, eyes drilling into him, her face unreadable. He shifted in his seat. A small part of him wanted her to kick him out. A bigger part didn’t want to steal the clothes they’d given him.  
“Come on, Gert.” Chase sighed. “Dude’s a homeless mute, he’s not here to steal the deed to the bar or assassinate Ken.” Ward shifted again, eyes dropping down to stare at the tabletop.  
“I know.” Gert said plainly.  
“Gert has trouble trusting adults.” Molly explained, putting a hand on the table near Ward's hand the way someone might put a hand on someone’s shoulder. “At all. Ever.”  
“Nope.” Gert confirmed. Ward nodded understandingly. She nodded back, taking a pit of meat loaf.  
“I make one friend.” Chase groaned comically. The table laughed again. Gert’s expression didn’t change, and neither did Ward’s.


	3. Chapter 3

“So who is actually doing the dishes?” Molly asked as they cleared the table. Ward raised his hand. “Are you volunteering?” He nodded. “Cool. See, Gert? He can’t be all that bad.”  
“I guess.” Gert was carrying the left overs with her plate. She nodded toward the door Chase had gone through when they’d first arrived. It did indeed lead into a fully-equipped chef’s kitchen; nothing fancy, exactly what you’d expect to find in the back of a bar. The others filed in after them and set their plates on the counter near the sink.  
“Thanks, man.” Kenny said, hand moving toward him in a friendly gesture. “Is it okay if I touch you?” Ward nodded and he patted him gently on the shoulder. “I’m gonna set you up in the barroom, unless you wanna sleep in here. It’s warmer.” Ward pointed at the floor in a gesture he hoped conveyed “here.” Kenny nodded.  
“Here.” He said, moving his flat, palm-up hands in circular motions in front of his torso. Ward copied his motion. “Here.” Kenny repeated, then moved one flat hand from his mouth outward in a sharp motion. “Thank you.” Ward copied the gesture again. Kenny smiled and nodded. “There you go.”  
Once the others left, Gert was left at the kitchen island, packing away left overs in plastic storage containers, and Ward moved to the sink. They worked at their tasks in silence for a few minutes until Gert spoke,  
“Don’t take it personally.” She said. He looked at her over his shoulder and tried to convey how much he didn’t blame her for acting the way she was in an expression. “I had a bad experience.” He nodded. “If you wanna stick around, it’s fine. We get long-term temps in all the time. I mean, most people are just here for a couple nights until we find someplace more permanent for them. It’s kind of snug around here. But if you need to stay, stay. Don’t mind me.” He nodded. The more they mentioned staying a little longer, the more appealing it sounded. He could wash the dishes every night.  
“But if you hurt my family.” She drew a steak knife from its wooden holder in a practiced motion. He hadn’t even seen her move toward the counter. “In any way, shape, or form, I will grind you into taco meat and feed the tacos to my dinosaur.” He nodded, though he wasn’t sure what she meant by the last part, he couldn’t understand more, even if his family had a good reason to not want him anymore.

Kenny arrived with a cot not too much later, Molly trailing behind him with a set of bed dressing that smelled freshly laundered. Ward signed “Thank you”.  
“You’re welcome.” Molly put her forearm across her belly and swung it out toward him. “Hit that button if you need anything.” She pointed to a white intercom on the wall near the sliding metal window out to the bar. Ward nodded.  
“Night.” Kenny said, preforming the “thank you” sign, then turned his hand to pat the back of his other hand. Ward copied the sign. The three of them shuffled out, asking permission before turning the lights out.  
“I like him.” He heard Molly say as they left.


	4. Chapter 4

His eyes snapped open the next morning and it took a few moments of heavy breathing to remember where we was and what was happening. What did his brain do with this information? It decided he should make breakfast. There was a box of pancake mix in one of the cabinets above the stovetop. Everything was so well organized and kept up you’d hardly notice it was all either the fixings for bar food or microwavable dinners and second-hand cookware. These kids took care of their things. He remembered how well he’d kept his things, even his and Buddy’s campsite. Once you had something of your own, no matter what that something was, you protected it.  
It was maybe seven thirty in the morning when Case wondered into the kitchen.  
“I smelled food.” He announced. He stared at the stacks of pancakes Ward had lined up along the kitchen island for a long moment and for a second Ward panicked. He’d done the wrong thing. These people had taken him in, and instead of repaying them, he’d done the wrong thing. He should just go. He shouldn’t bother them anymore. Then Chase took a big sniff and gave a satisfied hum. “Molly’s right. You’re cool.” He said, moving toward one of the two fridges in the back. He dug out an assortment of half-full breakfast condiments: two kinds of a syrup, chocolate sauce, butterscotch, etc.  
“We don’t have any whipped cream.” He whined, shutting the door with his foot. He set everything down on the island. Ward turned his attention to using the very last of the batter, scarping it onto the griddle inlaid into the island.  
“What!?” Ward jumped, almost dropping the spatula. Molly was standing in the doorway in her pajamas, complete with sleeping cap. Her face was all smile.  
“Yeah, see, I bring home only the best.” Chase puffed his chest out, drizzling maple syrup onto a stack of pancakes.  
“Thanks, Leo.” Molly said, then asked if she could hug him. Ward paused a moment before nodding slowly.  
“We should call him Chef.” Chase joked around a mouthful of pancakes. “You gotta stick around if you want, man.” Ward focused on flipping the last pancake.

“L-E-O.” Kenny said, making the letters with his fingers. Ward copied the motions, feeling a little guilty. He should tell them, shouldn’t he? “That’s you.” Kenny pointed to him, then turned the gestured on himself, pressing his hand to his chest. “My name is Kenny.” He tapped his two fore and middle fingers together twice, then spelled out his name. Ward only nodded this time, picking up his fork again to cut out a chuck of chocolate-covered pancake. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had chocolate syrup. He ate slowly, chewing deliberately, enjoying the taste like this would be the last time he’d ever have it.  
Everyone was in the kitchen then, either eating or preparing for the bar to open, except Gert. She’d taken her butterscotch and chocolate covered short stack and left without a word. No one had questioned it. She suddenly reappeared then, carrying a tablet.  
“Morning babe.” Chase said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and kissing her temple, having not had a chance before.  
“Hey, Chase.” She said before moving between Kenny and Ward.  
“What’s up, ‘Trude?” Kenny asked, leaning around her form to see Ward. He was looking at her expectantly. The others gathered around them quickly and Gert unlocked the tablet. No one said anything for a moment as Ward’s FBI wanted poster appeared on the screen.  
“Chase did some digging last night.” Gert said, looking at Ward.  
“Yeah, and I gave him the BOTD.” Chase said. Ward took deep breaths, trying not to panic. “I mean, it’s not like we haven’t had “fugitives” in before.” He used air quotes. “And it’s not like we’re gonna get raided; everyone thinks you’re dead, bro.”  
“Your transport blew up.” Gert said, closing the page on the tablet and bring up Word. “Did you have anything to do with that?” Ward shook his head slowly. She nodded. “Your story.” She shoved the tablet at him and took a step back. He watched nervously as everyone settled into sitting positions around him, their faces… pleasant? Not even Gert was glaring at him. They were all just waiting patiently. He picked up the tablet slowly.


	5. Chapter 5

"I don't understand." He typed out on the tablet, the last sentence in a pages long confession. The five of them laughed.  
"Dude," Kenny chuckled. "You think that's the worst we've heard?!"  
"Ask me about my back story some time." Chase patted him on the back. "Hell, ask Molly."  
"When it comes to dark pasts, you are solidly in the middle ground my friend." Gert nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. Ward tilted his head to one side and typed,  
"Friend?"  
Gert sighed and rolled her eyes. She hooked her index fingers together twice.  
"Friend." She said. Ward repeated the action, and the others crowded around them, signing "friend" over and over again, giggling.  
"Now you have to stay with us." Kenny clapped a hand on his shoulder. Ward gave a questioning look. "You need a place you can heal." He squeezed his shoulder. "And people who will help you grow into your own person."  
"Present and accounted for." Chase made a sweeping gesture.  
"And also," Kenny sighed. "Grant, you put a lot of bad into the world while you were under Garret's control. Now that he's gone, you have a chance to move on, and an obligation to pay penance."  
"Kenny is our resident Karma Doctor." Gert explained flatly. Kenny waved her off.  
"I'm serious. Do you know what we do here? We find kids in bad situations and we help them out of those situations, cause we were all once in bad situations once ourselves."  
"Kenny's right." Molly piped up. "What better way to get better and put good in the world than by rescuing the kid you used to be." She smiled.  
"Bruiser that was deep." Chase sounded awed. Ward shook his head.  
“You guys don’t want me around such a good cause.” He typed. “I’m not a victim. I chose to do those things. I’m a bad person.”  
“Ding dong, you are wrong.” Chase sing-songed. “Ward, Grant, honey, I know bad people, I was raised by bad people, I can spot a bad person from a mile away. You are not a bad person. Hell, you’re not even a person. This Garret asshole stole that from you. You did bad things, but not because you wanted to or because you were getting some kind of perverse joy out of it, you did bad things because in your head, your abused, neglected, devoid-of-personal agency head, you had no choice. You weren’t a monster because you chose to be a monster like Garret did, you were a monster because another monster turned you into one while you were vulnerable.”  
“And that isn’t going to change.” Karolina said quietly. “Those things will always have happened, but you don’t have to let that period in your life be your whole life or who you are. you can make yourself better, and you can put good into the world.”  
Ward paused. The room was silent for what felt like a long time. Then finally, he nodded, mouthing "I'm in." Kenny signed the phrase and Ward copied him, then signed, "Thank you." He almost didn't know what to do with himself when faced with so many hugs at once.


	6. Chapter 6

Chase opted to open the bar, but the others lead Ward on a tour of the Hostile. The kitchen he was basically familiar with: glass-doored fridges, deep freezer, surprisingly-well stocked pantry.  
"Rule 8: we don't get paid." Kenny explained. "But we do accept food donations."  
"And the occasional appliance." Gert added. Next was the bar room itself; pretty standard. There were booths inlaid into one wall, tables and chairs, one wall was all glass and opened out onto a deck. There was a jukebox in one corner. Behind the building there was half-put together green house that Ward immediately volunteered to finish.  
"Nice." Kenny squeezed his shoulder. "Cookin' the food and helping us grow our own. I like you." He smiled. Grant wished that he could explain that he only really knew how to make pancakes. He needed to get on this learning sign language thing fast. The jeep was not the only vehicle they owned: a small detached garage was home to a van that looked like it had been adopted at young age by a family of tanks.  
Back inside, he door in the back of the barroom lead to a closet, and in the back of that closet was a hidden set of elevator doors. One floor down, those doors opened to reveal a cozy family room, its walls lined with books, DVD's, games, etc. The entertainment system took up one corner, and on the fluffy couch sat a girl a little younger than Molly. She deep brown hair and skin and big, honey colored eyes.  
“Klara, meet our newest member." Karolina said of Ward. He waved.  
"Hello sir." She waved.  
"Sir." Kenny made a face, emulating Ward's feelings. He wasn't a sir. "Klara's gonna be running the green house once we get it up and running." Karolina explained. "And Ward is gonna be helping us make that a reality." Karolina dropped down next to Klara on the couch.  
"Thank you." The younger girl said. Ward nodded.  
"He doesn't talk." Kenny explained. "This is the family room. We hang out here, watch movies, jam to music. Chase hooked up the sound system and it's pretty tight. Our rooms are through there, plus showers and stuff." He pointed to a wide door opposite the elevator. Gert disappeared through it without a word. "We'll get you squared away soon, maybe go down to the thrift shop and shop for some clothes."  
"I'll take him!" Molly shot a hand in the air, wrapping the other around one of Ward's.  
"Molly will take you clothes shopping later." Karolina said sagely.  
"Yes." Molly said like she'd just accepted the most important mission in her career. Ward didn't know how to feel about that.  
"Through here," Kenny lead just him and Molly through another door. "Is the situation room." This room was larger than the family room and contained a conference table and chairs, and three computer servers connected to a monitor array. Kenny touched one of the servers.  
"This is where we keep files on all the kids we help."  
"The Runaways." Molly declared.  
"Take a seat." Kenny said, gesturing to one end of the table but not a specific seat. Ward sat so that he was facing the wall opposite the monitors. This wall wasn't powder blue like the rest, or bright orange like the family room; it was black, with white letters painted on it.  
"I mentioned Rule 8 earlier." Kenny said. "These are the rest."  
1\. Try not to die.  
2\. We will not leave each other.  
3\. There is always a choice and no one gets to make it for you.  
4\. Our secrets are ours. Outsiders may look in, but they may not come in.  
5\. Never, ever sell out a fellow Runaway. Ever.  
6\. Be fuckin' nice to people.  
7\. Share food.  
8\. The Hostile is our home. It is special and it is sacred.  
9\. We don't get paid for helping people run away, but you can accept goods and services.  
10\. Anyone we help run away is a Runaway. No exceptions.  
11\. Help each other. Lend a hand. Kiss a bruise. Hide a kid. Help each other.  
12\. Meanies get ground into taco meat.

Ward sat back and focused on his breathing. He really didn't want to start crying. We will never leave you. He swallowed. He silently promised them he would never break that rule. He would die before he abandoned another family. He would die before he would throw another family away.  
"You think you can follow those rules, Chef?" Molly elbowed him gently. He nodded.  
"Chef?" Kenny asked.  
"Chase's idea. We all have cool codenames." Her smile was almost smug. "I'm Bruiser. Kenny's Mettle, Chase is Talkback. You get to pick whatever one you want." Ward took the tablet from Kenny.  
"A friend of mine once called me "Warm"." He typed. "Another of our friends was "Fuzzy"." Molly and Kenny laughed.  
"We'll work on it." Kenny said. "Come on, I think I know why Gert left earlier."


	7. Chapter 7

"Come meet our mascot." Gert waved them over. Ward felt himself smile without effort. It was small, but he didn't have to force it. He moved a little more quickly than before as he walked around to the other side of the couch. They had a mascot? A dog?  
The Runaways' mascot was not a dog. Klara was not sitting underneath the tail of a dog. A dog's head was not resting on Karolina's lap. That was not a dog hanging halfway off of the couch she was really too big to lie on anyway.  
Ward's face fell. Slowly, he turned his head to look at Gert. She smirked, pushing her glasses up on the bridge of her nose.  
"I'm Arsenic, that's Old Lace." At the mention of her name, Old Lace raised her head from Karolina's lap, nearly falling off the couch in the process.  
A deinonychus was a kind of raptor that lived in parts of North America during the Cretaceous Period. They were feathered, had lots of pointy teeth, and could grow up to eleven feet long. It is unlikely that they were all green and lilac in coloring and almost none of them would have a nose rings similar to that of a bull. And somehow, Ward suspected, none of them would have been very comfortable sharing a couch with two young girls.  
"I told you I had a dinosaur." Gert shrugged. Ward stood there dumbly for a moment before Kenny nudged his arm, reminding him of the tablet.  
"Why do you have a dinosaur?" He typed. Kenny interpreted the sentence into ASL in an attempt at a teaching moment but Ward wasn't really paying attention because, y'know, more pressing matters and stuff.  
"The short answer is that my parents are time travelers." Gert said, shrugging again. Ward nodded slowly, then typed,  
"Yes, but why do you have a dinosaur?"  
"Old Lace and I have a telepathic link. We can hear each other’s thoughts." She paused a moment and Old Lace rolled off the couch, however reluctantly, and came to stand at Gert's side. Ward nodded, then typed,  
"But why do you have a dinosaur?"  
"Because Old Lace is the coolest!" Molly said, plopping onto the couch between Klara and Karolina. Old Lace made a series of clicking noises, stalking back over to the couch, tilting her head every which way.  
"You're mad I took your seat, huh?" Molly giggled. Old Lace answered by climbing onto the couch with them anyway.  
"Old Lace!" Karolina laughed, struggling under the dinosaur's weight. Klara wiggled out from under her and slid onto the floor as gracefully as one can slide out of from underneath a dinosaur while wearing a sun dress.  
Ward turned to Gert, his face concerned, and showed her the tablet screen again.  
"But why do you have a dinosaur?" He silently asked again. Kenny burst out laughing.  
"She comes on ops with us sometimes. Whenever someone needs raptor bit. She's part of the team, just like you are now. You are one of us, right?"  
"I want to be." He typed.  
"Good.” She smiled like she was trying not to laugh. A moment later Ward was pinned below a dinosaur, her slimy tongue stroking excitedly over his face. The tightness in his lungs made laughing hard, but he did it anyway.


	8. Chapter 8

“Pick out whatever you want. We’ve got tons of store credit.” Molly explained as they entered the store. The store that was really more like a warehouse. He’d never seen a second hand shop so large, and past the clothing sections he could see furniture and assorted knickknacks. “Come on.” Molly took his hand again, leading him into the men’s section.  
“Let’s see.” She wandered away from him and Ward just sort of stood there. He took a deep breath. This shouldn’t be so hard. He’d picked out his own clothes before… No, he’d picked out his own clothes for missions before. Leather jackets and jeans for when we was working with Garret. Garret wore those clothes, and he would too. Finely-tailored suits for when we was working with Coulson. He needed to look professional. How did he need to look now? What was he doing? What did he need to get the job done?  
He was too lost in these thoughts to notice when Molly came back carrying a few folded pairs of jeans.  
“Ward.” She said insistently enough to break him out of his trance. He looked down at her, startled. “You okay?” She asked. He nodded. “Are you sure? We don’t need to do this now, we can go back home.” She smiled. He took a deep breath and shook his head. “Sure?” He nodded. “Okay. What’d you think?” She said of the jeans. He picked up the pair on the top of her pile. They were dark blue and other than a little wear around the pockets, they were a perfectly serviceable pair of jeans. His brow furrowed. Why did he need these? What were his orders?”  
“Grant.” Molly’s insistent voice again. He looked down at her. “Are you okay?” He nodded. “If you’re getting flash backs or anything, you can tell me.” She pulled a notepad and pen out of the pocket of her pink denim jacket. “It’s okay.” Ward took the pad and pen, handing her the back the jeans.  
“I’m fine.” He wrote.  
“Are you having a little trouble with choice?” She asked. He looked surprised. She smiled. “It’s more common than you think, especially with abused kids. Do I need to narrow down the selection for you?” He nodded. Maybe that would help. She nodded back. “Well how about you just pick two of these to try on for now and we work from there?” He nodded again.

“Agency and choice are a big part of what we’re about.” Molly was explaining from the other side of his changing stall door. “If you stick around for long enough, we can help you get your agency back. I understand how much it scared you when that guy wasn’t giving you orders anymore. We can help you make it so that you’re never scared like that again.” He opened the door and she looked up and smiled. “You look good.” She said. He’d picked out a pair of dark jeans, a grey tee shirt that fit him fairly well, and a sleeveless plaid shirt. “One outfit all on your own. Talk about progress.” She crossed her arms, smiling wider. “What’d you wanna pick out next?”  
He didn’t know why he wanted so many sweaters. He’d never really worn sweaters. Jackets, hoodies, weather-appropriate coats, yeah, but sweaters? He lingered on the women’s side of the sweater section for a moment, picking out a houndstooth-patterned pull-over. He grabbed a couple of cardigans in bold colors. His hands seemed to be moving without his consent. He dressed for the mission, for stealth, to blend in. These were the least stealthy sweaters ever. He almost put them back.  
Molly was the one who’d turned him on to the best find of the day though. She’d actually been looking at something for Gert,  
“Her birthday is coming out and these shirts are super cute.” She pulled a couple of tops of the rack, one of which was denim with leather shoulders. It was too small for him to wear closed but it didn’t matter. He could wear it open with a tee shirt. Molly asked why he wanted it so badly and he knew the answer. The sweaters he was a little confused about, but there was absolutely no doubt in his mind as to why he didn’t just want but needed this particular women’s top. But he only shrugged in reply.  
“Okay.” Molly smiled and skipped off toward the registers. Ward paused a moment to breathe slowly, mentally willing the tears to go away.

“And this is your room.” Kenny said, leading him and Molly into a medium-sized room outfitted with a dressed bed and a desk and chair. Other than a lamp and a dresser, there was nothing else in the room. “Blank slate.” Kenny said, making a sweeping motion. “You can put anything you want on the walls,”  
“Whenever you want.” Molly said, dumping the bags she’d helped carry onto the bed. “Take things as slowly or as quickly as you need them.”  
“Right, right.” Kenny nodded. “Of course. It’s just plastering my bedroom walls in surfer movie posters was the first thing I did when I got here.” He chuckled. “Yeah, man, you take things at your own pace.” He was moving toward the door. “You want help unpacking.” Ward shook his head, setting his bags down to sign “thank you”. Kenny grinned and signed “You’re welcome.” Back before leaving with Molly.


	9. Chapter 9

He'd just gotten everything organized with military precision in his dress and closet when there was a knock at the door.  
"Hey." Karolina poked her head in. "Can I come in?" He nodded, making a welcoming gesture before taking a seat on the bed.  
"I brought you something." She said, handing him a composition notebook and a pack of pens. "I journal. It helps me figure out what I'm feeling and what to do with that," He took then from her and smiled, thanking her. "You're very welcome. May I sit?" He nodded. She plopped down near him but not too close. "You don't have to use it but it might help. Making a person isn't easy and it might be nice to have a physical record of your journey." She explained. He nodded and signed "thanks" again. She tapped her four fingers against the flat of her other hand and then pressed to her palms together. "Notebook." He repeated her actions, then pulled out the notepad Molly had given him. These two things had distinct and separate purposes and he would use them as such.  
"What did you have to figure out?" He wrote. She chuckled.  
"Well 1, I'm a teenager and we tend to feel an inordinate amount if things." He smiled and nodded knowingly. "But also, I'm sort of..." She tilted her head to one side. "My parents lied to me a lot when I was growing up, and I don't just mean the dog ran away lied, I mean lied about the very nature of my existence lied." He looked concerned. "Yeah, and on top of that they aren't the best people, so," She shrugged. "Yeah, I have things." She chuckled. He nodded. There was a small pause before Karolina asked with a smile,  
"You know we're not naive, right?" He furrowed his brow. "You know that we understand what you are and what you're capable of and that you're kind of scary?" He nodded once. "Don't get me wrong, we don't invite just anyone to join us and you definitely have the potential for the person whom you become to be a cool guy, but," She shrugged. "Gert told me she threatened to feed you to Old Lace." He nodded. "There are worse things that can happen to you if you cross us. Worse things have happened to people whom we thought we could trust. Can I touch you?" He nodded. She put a hand on his shoulder. "I like you, Grant. We all like you. Kenny was right; you have an opportunity to put good into this world and redeem yourself. Please don't throw it away." He nodded. "Okay." She stood. "Is there anything you need?" He shook his head. "Okay." She turned and left the room.  
Ward opened his journal and clicked his pen.


End file.
